Mistletoe
by Mali Bear's Buddy
Summary: Brennan and Booth's mistletoe kiss re-imagined in light of the 100th episode.  Three-shot told with a chapter from each prospective.  We explored Caroline in Ch. 1 and Brennan in Ch. 2.  How did Booth feel about the whole thing?  Now Complete!
1. Caroline

**A/N - Christmas is about to come early. Ever since the 100th episode, I've been thinking about the mistletoe kiss from **_**Santa in the Slush.**_** I was messaging with a friend who expressed disappointment that there wasn't a Christmas episode this season and the light bulb went on - a three-shot with chapters from Caroline, Brennan and Booth's perspectives.**

**Many, many thanks to the lovely and talented jsq for signing on as beta. I envy her ability to say in under 500 words what it takes me 1500 to convey. Give her an early present for helping get this out way ahead of my plans for a Thanksgiving posting - check out her latest project ****The People in the Story****.**

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is Seasons 1-5 on DVD. What you recognize belongs to Fox.**

Caroline

As I make my way to her office, I consider the pair I'm headed to see. I can't have anyone thinking I've gone soft, so I told her I was feeling puckish. Despite what you may have heard, I'm a romantic. A romantic who stands to lose a tidy little sum in the office pool.

Yes, there's a bet. Yes, I'm a prosecutor and it probably violates 14 different rules of ethics, but I couldn't resist. It was fun right up until I realized I had two weeks to go before I was out. Her plea for me to fix it so her father and brother got Christmas in prison was the perfect opportunity. I'm already knee-deep in the mud, why not add blackmail to the list?

The sexual tension between Seeley Booth and that lady scientist of his crackles like a roman candle. The man needs help and I've decided to give it to him. Yes, sir; traded the good doctor a kiss under the mistletoe in exchange for giving that jailbird family of hers a Christmas miracle. What difference does it make that I have an ulterior motive?

I've known Booth for years. He's the kind of man you could take home to your mama. The _marrying_ kind. It's always surprised me that the Stinson woman didn't snap him up when she had the chance. I mean if I was ten years younger, I might've chased after him myself. Especially once I saw him break type with Camille Saroyan.

Sure he's had girlfriends off and on. I gotta tell you, I can't recall a single one other than Cam that wasn't blonde. His baby mama. That waif of an attorney - oh, what was her name?- Tonya? Theresa? Anyway, the skinny one that you just wanted to hog-tie and force-feed cheeseburgers until she looked human.

He's more than just a good man - _sure, he's flawed, but aren't we all, cherie?_ - he's standard issue FBI eye candy. Those broad shoulders and tight muscles encased in those perfectly tailored Italian suits. Mmm Mmm Mmm. And if that isn't enough he's got that butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth smile and those milk chocolate puppy-dog eyes.

It's the eyes that'll getcha. Only those eyes are fixed on one woman in particular and they have been for quite some time. I've known he had a thing for Temperance Brennan ever since I made him fire her for punching that federal judge. Not that he'd ever admit it. Poor boy has got it bad and he thinks no one knows it.

Dr. Brennan is a stubborn firecracker of a woman. She's beautiful and hardheaded and she thinks she's the smartest person on the planet.

I walk into her office and see her standing with him. A couple of feet and a wall of tension separate them; but not for long. "Congratulations," I say as my hands come to rest on my wide hips. Best to ease into this judging from Booth's posture. I know better than to push the former sniper. "I hear you have a suspect in the Santa slaying."

"Yeah," Booth responds. I can tell he's shaky as ever around her, but determined as ever to sound in control. "It looks like the Easter Bunny has nothin' to worry about."

Dr. Brennan, on the other hand, isn't nervous at all because, as usual, her big brain is focused on the outcome of the experiment. "Did you talk to the judge about the trailer?" she asks while Booth shuffles from one foot to the other like a middle school kid at his first dance.

"Yes, I did," I tell her. Flicking my eyes to Booth, I add, "What about your end?" She points up. "Well," I say, drawing out the word. "Would you look at that? Mistletoe." I grab Booth's arm and push him towards the good doctor. "You take a step to your right and you'll be right under that cute little sprig." I raise my eyebrows.

Dr. Brennan is looking at him like she could swallow him whole. It's like one of those Discovery Channel programs where the lioness is staring down a gazelle and you just know she's thinking about pouncing. Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, _cheries_. And don't go telling me that Dr. Brennan is a vegetarian - she's a man-eater and we all know it.

And then it happens. She reaches out, grabs the lapels of his coat - I can hear the breath rushing from his lungs as she pulls him to her - and lays one on him.

Things go all slow-motion. It's like one of those cheesy romantic movies I would never admit to watching. What starts as a "come here, you" is changing before my eyes to one of those you'll-never-forget-it kisses and I just know Booth will never be the same. Suddenly, what I thought was going to be a fun little push that would help me get an edge on the bet isn't so funny any more. I feel like an intruder.

Booth pulls away from her just a hair only for her to reel him back in. And I'm pretty sure she just slipped him the tongue. _Wait a minute, is there a chance this isn't the first time? And they call this woman an ice queen?_

I'm starting to feel confused - and let me tell you, I never get confused. Well, at least not unless those scientist types are spouting their nonsense, which, by the way, is number four on the list of things that piss me off.

When Dr. Brennan finally pulls away, I have to collect myself. No way am I letting them notice my confusion. She's wearing a smug look as Booth takes a stumbling step backwards with his chin hanging open.

Appears I'm not the only one who needs to do some collecting. Part of me wants to tell the man to close his mouth before he starts catching flies, but I hold my tongue. _This is too good._

"Was that enough steamboats?" she asks, her eyes cast towards the floor. _Was she moved, too? I'll be damned._

"Plenty." Slowly, I exhale. _That kiss was hotter than some of the sex I've had. I need a cigarette - and I haven't smoked in years._ "A whole flotilla."

"I don't know what that means," Booth says. His focus is on me. It's cute that he seems incapable of making eye contact with his partner. "But, Merry Christmas."

Brennan pipes up all too quickly, "It was like kissing my brother."

_I don't know who she's trying to convince, but she isn't fooling me._ "You sure must like your brother," I say with raised brows.

Booth casts a quick sideways glance at her. "She does."

She looks at him and then back to me as she scratches her nose. "I do."

_Nice try. _ I know something's going on. And I know I've turned the knob up a couple hundred degrees on their tension. "The trailer's all arranged. You're good to go, _cherie_. Merry Christmas."

Turning my back, I shuffle out of her office and hurry to exit the Jeffersonian. I certainly hope the Keenan family enjoys their Christmas. Lord knows, Dr. Brennan earned it...


	2. Brennan

**A/N - Once again, we are way ahead of schedule thanks to my brilliant beta jsq. I was terrified about this particular chapter and I could not have pulled it off without her. This may be the first and last time I attempt to crawl into Brennan's head...**

**I know what Hart Hanson and the gang can give us for Christmas: a Hannah-free New Year. I don't dislike her, but like the rest of you I'm ready for her to be gone.**

**Disclaimer: What you recognize belongs to Fox.**

Brennan

I pop a piece of peppermint gum into my mouth and try to steady my hands as I tie ribbon around the bundle of fake mistletoe. I can't believe I let Caroline Julian blackmail me. I probably could have just bought off the judge or made some other arrangement. I don't even know why I asked her for help. I had to go to three different shops to find mistletoe.

Out of the current context, I find the tradition oddly fascinating. In pre-Christian cultures, mistletoe represented the very essence of man. The berries were thought to resemble semen and, therefore, increase male vitality. The act of kissing under the mistletoe first occurred in Scandinavian culture where berries were plucked by young men following each kiss. It's all about sex. Not that I have a problem with sex. Unlike my partner, I am most assuredly not a prude.

When I am forced to consider what it means to me at this particular moment, I can't help but be reminded of a different situation. Three years ago, Booth and I kissed. Had we not both been inebriated at the time, we probably would have had intercourse. Thinking about it from a scientific perspective is...

Booth enters my office, interrupting my thoughts. "Bones. Pay Fast Check Cashing confirms cashing Moose's paycheck. Nine-hundred bucks. All crisp, new fifties."

"And Kringle had new fifties in his dresser," I say to him. I look at him briefly before turning away.

"And the serial numbers match," I hear him say as I tether my prize to the hook I will use to hang it.

"Suggesting Kringle is our pick-pocket." I turn back to face him.

"Mmm-hmm. So we're getting a warrant to analyze Moose's clothing. So if there's any bird soup goop on him we'll know he's our killer."

I won't be sidetracked. I slide a chair across the floor and step onto it. I carefully tuck it into the ceiling grate.

"What is with the mistletoe?" he exclaims suddenly.

I'm surprised that it has taken someone as observant as Booth so long to notice. "I was going to talk to you about this. Caroline wants us to kiss under the mistletoe," I state plainly as I step off of the chair and push it back into it's proper position.

"What?" he squeaks and takes a step back.

"It's the only way she'll make Christmas for my family," I tell him as I put the hook away.

"What? By having us kiss?" he asks, his voice returning to its normal pitch.

"Yes," I respond softly, afraid to look at him. Still, out of the corner of my eye I notice his wide eyed expression.

"Why?" he questions.

I take another piece of gum out. "Because she's feeling puckish," I respond. I can't stop the irritation from creeping into my voice.

"Puckish? What's that mean?"

"Listen, Booth, she's going to be here any second. You want some gum?" I swap out the piece I've been chewing for a fresh one.

"No, my breath is just fine," he looks from me to the mistletoe and back. "Listen, I'll have a talk with Caroline."

"No." I demand as I move closer.

"No?" he repeats.

I can tell he doesn't like this idea. "I'm only telling you out of professional courtesy."

"What?" he says, confusion crossing his face.

"So that you won't be surprised," I add as I wipe my damp palms on the front of my dress.

"When you say kiss, you mean like kiss-kiss on both cheeks?" he says pantomiming the action with a short lean.

"No," I say crossing my arms. I can't stop my eyes from drifting to his mouth. "On the lips."

His gulp is audible.

"Like brother and sister, colleagues," I say in attempt to ease his mind. "French people meeting on the street."

He looks at the mistletoe and back at me. "Caroline's feeling puckish, huh?"

"It means playful and impish," I explain as she walks through my door.

"Congratulations," she says. She rests her hands on her hips. She really ought to go on a diet and start exercising to take some of the stress off her bones. "I hear you have a suspect in the Santa slaying."

"Yeah," Booth answers looking at Caroline and then at me. "It looks like the Easter Bunny has nothin' to worry about."

"Did you talk to the judge about the trailer?" I ask quickly changing the subject.

"Yes, I did," she says. As her eyes flick to Booth she adds, "What about your end?"

I point up.

"Well. Would you look at that? Mistletoe." She pushes Booth in my direction. "You take a step to your right and you'll be right under the cute little sprig."

He keeps looking between me and Caroline. I find myself drifting closer, my gaze focused intently on his mouth. For a moment, I contemplate how this kiss will compare to the one we shared three years ago. _It's now or never, Temperance,_ I tell myself. It isn't like I didn't warn him this was coming. I reach out and grab the lapels of his coat.

"I.." Booth stammers.

Pulling his lips down to mine, I press my mouth to his. He doesn't move. He just stands there. I don't know what that means, but I'll be damned if Booth keeps me from giving my family Christmas. I feel him start to pull away. Panic sets in. _Have enough steamboats passed?_

He leans back slightly. His mouth opens slightly as if to protest or gain air. I use this to take the advantage. Gripping higher on his collar, I slip my tongue between his parted lips. He tastes like coffee and...is that apple pie? _This kiss is _very_ different from the tequila fueled ones we shared outside the pool hall. _I feel my body reacting as he begins to kiss me back. I pull away before it goes any further and watch as Booth takes a stumbling step away.

"Was that enough steamboats?" I ask as I lower my eyes to the floor. I don't want either of them to notice the slight flush of arousal I feel on my face and throat.

"Plenty." She says slowly_._ "A whole flotilla."

"I don't know what that means," Booth says with another gulp. "But, Merry Christmas."

"It was like kissing my brother," I tell them. _Yeah, right,_ I tell myself. Hopefully they wouldn't notice.

"You sure must like your brother," she says.

Booth glances at me. "She does."

I look each of them in turn and rub my nose. "I do."

"The trailer's all arranged. You're good to go, _cherie_. Merry Christmas."

I stand next to him as she walks away. "I'm sure she feels really foolish right now," I tell him crossing my arms.

"Yeah," he says in a low tone.

Neither of us can make full eye contact.

"Hey, well, I...I really sh-should get back and um s-see if the forensic guy's got anything yet on Moose's clothing," he stutters.

"That's a good idea," I say as I round my desk. "I've got stuff to do, too. Yeah. With bones."

"I understand completely," he mumbles.


	3. Booth

**A/N - I'm almost sorry that this one is over because while it was a challenge, I really enjoyed it. **

**Let me say again I could not have pulled this off without the help of the lovely jsq. Caroline was not intended to be up until Thanksgiving and we've made it through the entire series a full two weeks ahead of schedule! Sweetie, wherever you are right now please take a bow or give yourself a round of applause. In some ways this is yours as much as it is mine. You're amazing - I can't say that too often or loudly enough.**

**Satisfy our mutual curiosity: let me know which part was your favorite. If I'm ranking them, this is my favorite. Brennan was jsq's pick. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on this little experiment.**

**Thanks for helping me get into the spirit. Happy Holidays!**

Booth

I wrap up my interview of the suspect and head to the bullpen to make sure Charlie's confirmed the guy's story about his cash-a-check stop. I love these knucklehead mall cops that think they're law enforcement. _I can understand being pissed about having your wallet stolen, but roughing up Santa? _ _Get a grip. And while your at it, call a _real_ cop._

Not fifteen minutes later, I'm walking into her office. "Bones. Pay Fast Check Cashing confirms cashing Moose's paycheck. Nine-hundred bucks. All crisp, new fifties."

"And Kringle had new fifties in his dresser," she replies. She's acting a little shifty.

"And the serial numbers match," I say.

"Suggesting Kringle is our pick-pocket." she says as she turns to face me.

"Mmm-hmm. So we're getting a warrant to analyze Moose's clothing. So if there's any bird soup goop on him we'll know he's our killer." I watch, confused, as she slides a chair across the floor and steps onto the seat. Using the hook she tucks the string between the ceiling tiles. All of a sudden, it registers. "What is with the mistletoe?"

"I was going to talk to you about this," she says as she steps off the chair. "Caroline wants us to kiss under the mistletoe."

"What?" I try not to wince when it comes out in a squeak. _To say I'm surprised would be an understatement._

"It's the only way she'll make Christmas for my family," she whines.

"What? By having us kiss?" I ask, thankful my voice sounds normal this time.

"Yes," she says without looking me in the eye.

"Why?" _Does Caroline know we've kissed before? Is this some kind of prank?_

"Because she's feeling puckish." She takes out a pack of gum.

It doesn't take a genius to see my partner is irritated. "Puckish? What's that mean?"

"Listen, Booth, she's going to be here any second. You want some gum?" She folds a new stick into her mouth and carefully tucks the empty wrapper around her used piece.

"No, my breath is just fine," I look at her and then at the mistletoe. My eyes go back to her face. "Listen, I'll have a talk with Caroline."

"No." she says, invading my personal space.

"No?" _That perfume of hers drives me crazy._ I think about the last time we faced each other this way. We were standing in front of that little dive bar in the rain. I can almost taste the tequila on her..._this is not going to end well. Saint Anthony, Saint Christopher, Saint Luke, Saint..._

"I'm only telling you out of professional courtesy."

"What?" I can't believe I got distracted. Getting distracted around my partner is dangerous.

"So that you won't be surprised," she adds. She's tense and she's acting less like Bones and more like a girl. _Yeah, I know she is one but she's usually a confident and self assured woman. The Brennan in front of me appears to be possessed by a teenager about to get her first kiss._

"When you say kiss, you mean like kiss-kiss on both cheeks?" I ask carefully. I lean side to side to demonstrate. The action is as much for her benefit as it is my own.

"No," she answers crossing her arms. "On the lips."

I gulp in air when I notice the way she's staring at my mouth. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to kiss her without the fog of tequila that clouded our last experience. I want to know if her lips are as soft as I remember. _I'm going to hell. I shouldn't be thinking about this. She's my partner for Christ's sake._

"Like brother and sister, colleagues," she says. _Like that was going to make me feel better._ I know she's trying, but the thing about Bones is that she usually makes things worse when she attempts to help. "French people meeting on the street."

I look at the mistletoe and back at her. "Caroline's feeling puckish, huh?"

"It means playful and impish," she's explaining as Caroline joins us.

"Congratulations," she says. She rests her hands on her hips. Caroline Julian is a force of nature. I'm pretty sure she's the only person I've ever seen intimidate Bones. "I hear you have a suspect in the Santa slaying."

"Yeah," I look back and forth between the two of them as I answer. "It looks like the Easter Bunny has nothin' to worry about."

"Did you talk to the judge about the trailer?" she asks, changing the subject.

"Yes, I did," she says. As her eyes rest on me she adds, "What about your end?"

Brennan points up. I wonder why they're talking about me as though I'm not in the room.

"Well. Would you look at that? Mistletoe." She pushes me in Brennan's direction. "You take a step to your right and you'll be right under the cute little sprig."

I eye both women looking for a way out of this situation. I can feel Brennan's eyes on my mouth as she hovers closer. She told me what was going to happen, but nothing could have prepared me for _how_ she actually did it. I feel every bit of air escape my lungs as her hands grip my coat.

Thinking it'll stop her - maybe delay it all together - I start talking. "I.."

But it's too late. Her lips cover mine swiftly. I'm afraid to move. I'm almost 40 years old and I don't know how to react to this. So I stand there. Everything in my body is crying out for me to kiss her back. To somehow force her to pick up where she walked away three years ago. But I can't. Not with an audience. Especially not with _this_ audience.

I try to step back. To break the grip she has on my lapels. The grip she's starting to have over my heart. Shifting her hands higher, she pulls me right back. And I find myself letting her.

Her tongue slides into my mouth. I can't _not _react anymore. I don't allow myself to touch her - partly because I know I won't stop touching her and partly because there are some things Caroline doesn't need to see - but I lean in and let her tongue dance against mine. My lips move against hers cautiously for once letting her take the lead.

And then it's over almost as quickly as it started. She pulls away and I feel bereft. I can hardly feel my feet beneath me. _Wow_. _That was better than I remembered._

"Was that enough steamboats?" she questions, her eyes on the floor.

"Plenty." Caroline says slowly_._ "A whole flotilla."

_Focus, Booth. Focus._ I tell myself as I fight to regain my composure. "I don't know what that means," I say with a smile as I gulp in air. "But, Merry Christmas."

"It was like kissing my brother." _She did not just say that._ The awful part is she probably thinks we believe her.

"You sure must like your brother." The hint of sarcasm in Caroline's voice is lost on my _partner_. Yeah. I need to remember that. And remind myself of it. Repeatedly. She's _just _my _partner._

I cast a sideways glance in Brennan's direction. "She does."

"I do," she answers a little too eagerly. _Ah-ha. Busted._

"The trailer's all arranged. You're good to go, _cherie_. Merry Christmas."

Brennan crosses her arms as we stand almost shoulder to shoulder watching the prosecutor walk away. "I'm sure she feels really foolish right now."

"Yeah," I answer. _Probably not nearly as foolish as I do though_, I add to myself. Neither of us can look at the other. There are too many questions that neither of us wants to answer right now. Questions Bones may never be capable of answering.

I decide to be the one to let us both off the hook. "Hey, well, I..." I begin, "I really should get back and, um, see if the forensic guy's got anything yet on Moose's clothing." _It's weak and cowardly. On the inside I know we should talk about this. Yeah. Talk about it. And by talk about it I mean the only sounds I want to hear from her are whimpers and moans of approval as we continue this little 'experiment' behind closed doors. But I know that won't happen._

"That's a good idea," she says as she walks around and plops down in her desk chair. "I've got stuff to do, too. Yeah. With bones."

"I understand completely," I mumble. _What the...?_ It appears more than just Brennan's tongue found it's way into my mouth. I pull it out. "Thanks for the gum," I whisper putting it back in my mouth as a way to savor the kiss. I then do my best to be casual as I take my leave wondering how many years it will be this time before I kiss my partner again. Because it's destined to happen. It's just a question of when.


End file.
